


The Specialist

by Bethynyc



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Community: maleslashminis, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethynyc/pseuds/Bethynyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan's slightly illegal stay at a health resort is interrupted—and a specialist is brought in to solve the problem</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Specialist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alixtii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alixtii/gifts).



Life on the run from the government was never as attractive as those on-the-run movies made it seem, Ethan mused. For one, the stolen uniform rarely fit. Also, the actual hot-wiring of the car was much easier than disabling the GPS. He finally ditched the car in the wee hours of the morning, and found a pickup truck filled with organic produce headed in the right direction.

When the truck stopped, Ethan took advantage of the moment to sneak out of the back. His reserves were far too low for any major magics—though minor glamours were still within his grasp. He needed a place where he could relax and renew his magical energy without any _stress_.

And...it seemed that he was in such a place. Looking around, he saw men and women of his own age walking around in plush terrycloth robes, with younger, athletic looking people in white uniforms assisting them in one way or another. Ethan smiled. He could work with this.

A short time later, he was wrapped in one of the robes, strolling along to the outdoor sauna. Yes, a high-class health resort was _definitely_ the right place for him to stay. A cantrip set on the manager and the computer system listed him as Mr. Edward Raines, housed him in a private bungalow, and scheduled him for daily massages and gourmet meals.

Later that evening, he found out exactly why that particular private, well-appointed bungalow was empty.

It was haunted.

After not sleeping all night because of the screams and howls and bleeding walls and the old man with the butcher knife sticking out of his chest wandering through the bedroom, Ethan had had enough. Chaos magic didn't have any specific spells for exorcism, but he was pretty sure that the table salt and spring water could do the job. Despite his perfect Latin recitation (from memory) however, the haunting continued until three in the morning when it suddenly stopped. Ethan managed to get to sleep, but paid a visit to the manager of the resort when he awoke.

After Ethan delicately explained the issue, the manager flushed bright red. “I am so sorry—we weren't supposed to rent out that particular bungalow until the...issue...was dealt with. The specialist is due in this afternoon.”

Ethan sat back in the chair and folded his arms. “So, does that mean I get another bungalow?”

The manager shook her head. “Again, Mr. Raines, I'm sorry, but we are fully booked. There are no other bungalows, and even the hotel rooms are full up. This is a very busy season, I hope you understand.”

Sighing, Ethan stood. “Well, it is an imposition, but I suppose I shall simply have to deal with it. Please let me know when the specialist arrives?” He stalked out of the office, the perfect picture of an aggrieved businessman. He'd probably have a fruit basket and champagne waiting for him after his massage.

Despite the haunting, the bungalow was equipped with a private outdoor jacuzzi and shower, and Ethan planned to spend some time relaxing there after his swim.

He was rinsing off in the outdoor shower, when his senses warned him that he was not alone. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a man—younger than himself, but still, an adult—standing just inside the private back yard. The man wore a buttoned down shirt and chinos and held a simple leather carryall. He seemed stunned to see Ethan showering...naked.

Ethan decided to play the offended rich person. “Excuse me, but aren't you supposed to just leave the towels and run along?” he called over his shoulder, before turning off the water. He pulled a plush bath sheet from the hook and casually dried himself off as he faced the stranger.

“Um...excuse me, but is this bungalow 23?” The voice—the familiar vowels of the British upper crust—reminded him of Ripper. Rupert. Damn.

Ethan finished toweling himself off and reached for the ubiquitous white robe. “Yes, it is. I take it you are the...specialist?” He pulled it closed and knotted the belt firmly.

The young man seemed to feel himself on firmer ground, now that Ethan was clothed and he knew he was in the right place. “Yes, I am. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce of Angel Investigations. You must be Mr. Raines. The manager didn't know if you would still be here.”

Ethan let his lip curl slightly and played his role to the hilt. “I didn't get to where I am today by letting _ghosts_ scare me off,” he sneered.

“Well then.” Pryce stepped a little further into the fenced-off yard. “I'll get right to work.”

With a nonchalant wave, Ethan opened the sliding glass doors into the bungalow. “I'll make myself comfortable.” He went over to the bar and mixed a very dry martini for himself before settling down on one of the plush chairs in the living area. “D'you want one? Or does one not drink before an exorcism?”

One eyebrow moved behind the glasses, and Ethan was ignored. As Pryce puttered around the bungalow, muttering about etheric readings and ectoplasmic resonances, a thought began to grow in Ethan's mind.

There was something oddly familiar about this young man. His mannerisms reminded him of Ripper when they first met, when Ripper was wet-behind-the-ears Rupert Giles, browsing in the occult section of used bookstores near Portobello Road. Ethan leaned back in his chair, resting one ankle on his knee, considering.

“Excuse me.”

“What?” Startled out of his reverie, Ethan stared at Pryce.

The specialist gestured at him, the tips of his ears glowing as a flush suffused his face. “You're...a bit distracting...like that.” The flailing hand was aimed vaguely at Ethan's groin, and he smiled at the chaos caused by a bit of unthinking nudity.

“Well then,” he stood up, tucking his robe around him a little tighter. “I'll just go change.”

The bungalow consisted of three rooms—the bedroom, a luxurious bathroom, and a combined living/dining area with a small kitchenette along the side for those guests who preferred to cook for themselves. Ethan closed the door to the bedroom and smirked to himself. As he dressed in complimentary clothing delivered especially for the wealthy 'Mr. Raines, who has been so patient with the...issue with his bungalow', he considered the puzzle of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.

Pryce. Wyndam-Pryce. Blue eyes that looked right into a person...he had it! This must be the uptight son of the dreaded Roger Wyndam-Pryce, Ripper's nemesis in his Watcher training, and possibly the reason why Ripper ended up with Ethan in the first place.

Well. He would need to come up with a very special bit of Chaos for Mr. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.

~*~*~*~

After making his preliminary investigations and interviewing 'Edward Raines' quite thoroughly about what he had experienced, Wesley left for the early evening, promising to return before the haunting began.

Ethan prepared. He lit a couple of candles bespelled to act as an aphrodisiac without obvious scents, and mixed up the magical equivalent of roofies using the contents of the spice cabinet and the meditation maze on the grounds. Really, a health resort was the best possible place for him—but Pryce was from a family of Watchers, and would probably smoke him out before too long..

Still, he could have some fun.

Wesley showed up at ten precisely, and meekly Ethan followed the instructions with regards to salt and chalk and candles. They settled in the protective circle, Wesley in the North, 'Edward' in the South, and chatted briefly as they waited for the apparition to show itself.

“How did they know about you, if you don't mind me asking.” Ethan inquired. “I mean, one doesn't generally suppose that a health resort would have an exorcist on speed-dial.”

Wesley smiled at that. “My girlfriend, Virginia, is a bit of a society person. Virginia Bryce?”

Ethan nodded encouragingly. “And...”

“She's stayed here before. Friends with the owners. Must say, I'm rather looking forward to the spa weekend they're offering as a gratuity for a quick resolution.”

“Oh yes, very relaxing. Go for the couples massage; I believe that's part of the romantic getaway package.”

Wesley paused, head cocked in a listening pose, and Ethan felt the crackle in the air that preceded a ghostly appearance.

The moan began as it had the night before...a long, drawn out sigh that wavered and dipped through a C-minor chord. Wesley rolled his eyes and Ethan chuckled—obviously, Pryce was as unimpressed with the ghost as he was.

When the apparition stalked into the room, Wesley was ready. He threw the blessed sea salt and stopped the ghost in its tracks before sprinkling the holy water direct from Rome and declaiming the Latin with perfect intonation.

The ghost didn't stand a chance. It wavered for a moment before dissolving with a wail into a puddle of ectoplasm.

Ethan, despite his years of experience, was impressed. Looking at Wesley, still neat and pressed despite the magical exertion, a wave of lust washed over him. When Wesley turned to face him, his eyes shining and lips wet from where he'd licked them, Ethan knew what he wanted. Carefully he stood and stepped out of the circle.

“Wesley, that was...” His words were stopped by Wesley's mouth.

Even if he couldn't perform an exorcism for shit, he was still tops in aphrodisiacs.

They wrestled their way into the bedroom, shedding clothes, and kissing every moment they could. Wesley's clever hands unzipped the designer jeans Ethan wore, and gasped at the feel of skin without any confines.

Wesley was taller than him, wiry muscles that spoke of more than simple scholarly pursuits. Still, Ethan was much older and wiser, and positioned them so he was on top, cocks aligned and rubbing against each other. They thrust against each other, growling, until Wesley came with a jerk. That set Ethan off, and the orgasm thundered through him.

They rolled apart, smiling and breathless. “Wow.” said Wesley. “That was...unexpected.”

“But very welcome.” Ethan rolled over on his side and grinned. “And now, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, you need to sleep.” He twisted his fingers in a mnemonic gesture, and Wesley, magical barriers made permeable by the sex, dropped off to sleep.

Ethan took a quick shower and dressed, packing his new clothes in the shopping bag. He opened Wesley's wallet and removed the cash—leaving the credit cards. He did snatch the car keys from Wesley's trousers, and paused at the doorway.

Wesley looked younger, almost innocent when sleeping. But Ethan was a lord of Chaos, and was not moved.

“Sorry, mate,” he whispered, and disappeared into the night with Wesley's rental car.

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Sometime during S2 when Wesley, Gunn, and Cordelia have been fired by Angel.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, Joss owns everything, but since he's not playing with the boys right now, I am!  
> Beta: Many thanks to sage_and_sea for her beta!  
> Author's Note: written for alixtii for the Minor Characters round of maleslashminis, requesting Ethan Rayne with Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and incorporating an outdoor shower and not wearing underpants. Hope you like it!


End file.
